Black Bargain
by DogStar234
Summary: Sirius Black makes a bargain with a magical creature to get his best friend back, losing a piece of himself in the process. James doesn't know this world he's come back to, but he has a teenage son to meet and a best friend to put back together. Set after Prison of Azkaban. Sirius/James.
1. Chapter 1

Sirius is sitting down on the sand, just before the water touches the land. The salt spray doesn't remind him of Azkaban at all, it's baking hot and he's alone with his thoughts. All the darkness that touches him is his own.

He's naked, as a man. But Uncle Alphard's cottage in Mallorca has enough anti-muggle wards on it, so he's not worried about scaring anyone.

The last time he was here was with James and Lily and Remus and that rat, and they got naked too. Well, just the Marauders, Lily rolled her eyes as they ran into the ocean at midnight.

It's lonelier this way, Sirius thinks, before he spots a glass bottle at the edge of his vision. It's shrouded in mist and he knows it's magical.

His lessons and his mother would have told him not to touch it, so he does anyways. Nothing happens for a moment, but a remarkable creature puffs out of air.

It looked like a man, tall, dark-skinned, handsome, with a shark-tooth sharp grin, but Sirius hadn't run around with a werewolf for years to not recognize a dark creature beneath the veneers of a man.

"Good evening to you, Sirius Black," the creature said with a grin.

Sirius cocked his head. "Is it?"

"It could be. What if I told you I could grant you your heart's desire?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "No one can. And not you, jinn."

The creature took a seat on the beach next to him. "I could do it, but you wouldn't like it. And more importantly, I wouldn't."

"5 points from the jinn for complete lack of clarity," Sirius replied, without fear.

"What do you wish for most in the world?" he asked, reaching up to Sirius face's. He slapped the hand away, but his reflexes weren't fast enough.

"That I never gave up being James and Lily's secret-keeper," he said, the truth spilling out of his lips quicker than he meant to. "But go fuck yourself, that's not your business."

"I'm making it my business this evening. And a bit of time travel isn't completely out of the question, but I've made a bargain before, with one of your little Death Eaters."

"They're not my death eaters!" Sirius all but growled.

"Of course, of course, my apologies," he replied, his voice as smooth as butter. "And for all I don't mind a little chaos, it was too much. I've had a productive decade with Voldemort being gone, you English wizards are high on the drama and the wishing. And there's no way for this little interlude between wars without Lily Potter dying."

Sirius stood up, and headed back to the cottage. "Right, I've had enough of this. Go find another wizard to torture."

"This isn't torture," he said, pulling himself back up to his feet. "If Lily Potter didn't make the choice to die to save her son, Voldemort wouldn't have been stopped for a while. He slaughtered so many new bloods in his rise to the top. And little wizards and witches born of muggles are so easy with their wishes and bargains. They don't grow up with the stories you did that make you so afraid of me right now."

"I'm not afraid of you," Sirius scoffed.

"A little fear is healthy, it's fine, I can deal with it. And I want to make a deal with you—I'm just explaining that I can't get you what you want exactly. Or rather that, I won't." he said, twirling a lock of his black hair aimlessly. It was practiced, easy and made Sirius more nervous.

"Right, thanks for that."

"I can give you your heart's desire, but in a different way."

"You're not my type," Sirius replied. "I may be naked, but I'm not that easy."

The jinn shifted, and for one horrible, beautiful moment, James Potter was staring back at him. Sirius blinked, and the Jinn was back.

Sirius was overcome with rage and grief and shifted, the bones and sinews of his body jutting into Padfoot. A jinn couldn't torture a dog, and Padfoot would be able to smell that it wasn't James.

"Ah, marvelous," the Jinn said. "That's it, just what I wanted. A beautiful grim you make, perfect for mischief."

Sirius growled, and shifted back to a man, turning to walk up to the entrance of the sea cottage.

"It's quite rude to ignore someone like that, Mr. Black. But you'll hear me out. Your friend back for your Animagus, it's quite a good trade."

Sirius stopped dead on his feet. "I know how this goes. I don't want an inferi, or a ghost or a half-life."

"Quite clever of you. It'll be him, body and soul."

"From when?" Sirius asked, having a vision of a newborn James being plopped into his arms. He couldn't be trusted with a child.

"I can do from his death day, or younger if that's where your tastes lie."

Sirius shook his head before a terrible vision popped into his mind.

"And he'll be here, not blasting his way out of his grave with his wand?"

The jinn shrugged. "Makes no difference to me, sure."

Sirius rubbed his eyes and tried to picture James in 1981. The memory was so bright and so far away . "I can't do that to him."

"You'd rather turn into a very large dog than bring your godson back his father. I get it. It matters little to me, I just wanted to meet you. The dog star wizard who can turn into a dog, the last male of a thousand-year-old line. Good day to you, Sirius Black."

Oh god, Harry. He had barely thought of his godson, that bright, wonderful 13-year old boy who didn't know him, but still saved his life

Who was he to deny Harry this? Or deny himself.

"Wait," Sirius croaked. "Would you make a vow? I have a spare wand inside."

The jinn smiled, and Sirius's sense of unease grew "I have little need for your sticks, but I'll agree to your vow."

The jinn followed Sirius into the small cottage, while he drew his wand. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he was razor-thin and his face looked gaunt. His hair was cut but messy and he looked like a shadow of his former self. Not like the man James remembered.

Sirius looked down at himself and decided he should at least be partially dressed before engaging in some no-doubt dubious magic. He summoned himself some pants, holding a finger up before the jinn could speak.

"Are you ready?" it asked him.

Sirius nodded.

"Yeah, I'm going to need more than that," he said. "You know the magic in words, wizard."

"Yes," Sirius whispered.

"Do you, Sirius Orion Black, swear to give me your animagus ability in return for me re-animating James Potter's corpse with his soul pulled from the beyond?"

At those words, Sirius stilled, but he was always in for a knut, out for a galleon.

"I do."

A golden glow filled the room and Sirius could feel a deep magic being pulled out of his bones, his cartilage, the deepest parts of him. The loss ached.

But he couldn't mourn for long. The jinn chanted in a language Sirius didn't understand until, in the small dining room of the cottage, a body appeared on the floor.

It was James—or it was once him- dressed in his finest dress robes, hands clutching his wand.

Sirius hadn't seen the burial robes, he was in Azkaban, but preservation charms don't last forever and the earth's own magic and rot had set in. It was a corpse, a long-dead thing, the robes were in better shape than his flesh. There were chunks missing that decay or animals took.

Sirius doubled over, trying not to choke on the bile in his throat.

The chanting resumed, and the decay reversed slowly, his skin and hair growing back centimetre by centimetre until he looked like he could be sleeping, except for the lack of breath.

"Almost done," he said proudly, gesturing to James on the floor. "Just needs his soul back. I've asked, he should probably come."

"Probably?! We had a deal," Sirius shouted.

"Well, I can't make him, but I made an assumption," he explained. "I have no power over that…but he died a violent death before he even hit a quarter-century. He's at peace, but he had his life and son stolen from him, there's things he'd want from this earth yet. Of course, I could be wrong, and you'll get your power back, no harm, no foul."

Sirius stared at his friend, so still in death, when in life he was so full of movement. He even kicked and mumbled in his sleep, he was never like this, it was a cruel mockery of his life.

He kept staring until James's eyes opened and he gasped in air.

"Ah, there he is," the jinn replied. "Pleasure doing business with you, Sirius Black."  
At that, the jinn apparated away without a sound, and Sirius ran over to James, touching his not-yet-warm skin.

He could hear him struggle to breath in and out, putting his hand to his chest.

"Easy, Prongs," he said, helping him to sit in a chair.

"Oh, Padfoot," James said, his voice cracking from a decade of disuse. "What did you do?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm so sorry," Sirius said, shaking his head like a guilty dog.

"I am very sure that I was dead," James replied, voice as calm and balanced as if he was asking Sirius to pass the salt instead of asking if he was recently deceased.

"Yes," Sirius all but whispered.

"Lily too, she was there with me until just now. Harry…wasn't."

"No, he's alive," Sirius said, the ghost of a smile reaching his face. "He looks so like you, but with Lily's eyes and her temper. He's a brilliant flyer—on his house team"

"Gryffindor?" James asked.

"Of course," Sirius replied.

James made an audible noise of relief, and stood to his feet, steadying himself on the counter.

"How old is he? How old are you?" James said, gesturing to the lines on his face.

"Harry's 13."

A shadow crossed over James' face, and he played idly with his wand, setting off sparks. Sirius idly thanked whatever gods he didn't believe in that he didn't bring James back only for him to be a squib.

"My teenage son didn't put those lines on your face, did he? A teenager…" James said, barely out of his teenage years himself and dead a decade.

"Harry's a good kid," Sirius said, strong in his conviction.

"All from his mum, I'm sure," James replied, taking a step forward to look Sirius in his gray eyes. He had to look away from the hazel that met him.

The guilt in his chest felt like it would explode out of him, and Sirius was sure James knew all of his entire pathetic fuck-ups in that one moment, everything he had done to mess up the lives of people he loved.

"What happened to you, Padfoot?"

James asked.

"It doesn't matter. You're back," Sirius said.

"Doesn't matter?" James replied, rolling his eyes. "The last time I heard that from you was when you moved in, and your back was flayed open by your mum's cutting curse. You slept on your stomach for months."

Sirius winced, but that pain was nothing compared to the last twelve years.

"Did Voldemort win?" James asked eventually. "And you got tortured for being a blood traitor?"

Sirius shook his head. "After Wormtail," he said, all but spitting out the name, "betrayed you, I went after him. He got the better of me, framed me for giving you up and killed some muggles in the process."

James's mouth dropped.

"I didn't think he had it in him either."

"Framed you?" James asked.

"I spent twelve years in Azkaban," Sirius said, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, mate," James said, his voice nearly as soft and full of love as when he used to speak to his newborn son.

James breached the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around Sirius, trying to give him comfort. Sirius stayed as still as a post, unmoving.

"Oi, I know dementors aren't especially cuddly, but you're supposed to return the hug, you see. That's how it works."

Sirius peeled himself out of James' embrace instead, knowing he didn't deserve the comfort.

"I'm so sorry," he told him instead.

James shook his head, his face growing red with anger. "I'm sure you had plenty of time to think about just how sorry you are in Azkaban. Don't apologise to me."

He moved away from Sirius, and stared out the window, just noticing where he was.

"Alphard's old place in Mallorca," Sirius said to James' unasked question.

"You always loved the water, you mangy dog," James muttered. "Sirius, you say Harry is alive, but where is he? I need to see him."

"Surrey. With his aunt and uncle."

"With Lily's awful sister?" James said, looking as pale as death for a moment. "Right, put a shirt on, we're going to Surrey."

Sirius shook his head. "You should go without me—I'm still a fugitive."

James sighed loudly. "Well, in that case, me and a big black dog are going to go get my son."

"Ah, about that," Sirius said, before recounting the tale that brought James back.

He watched as a mixture of fascination and horror flickered across James's face. His best friend always had a cut-glass face, it was so easy to see his heart and emotions on it.

"You fucking menace," James said, touching Sirius's face gently in contrast to his words. "You could have been made into a squib or killed, or I could be all in your head. The jinn could have taken your soul, did you think about that?"

"It didn't," Sirius replied.

"I know!" James shouted, slamming a cabinet shut in the kitchen. "I could be an apparition—or an evil spirit-let me ask again-did you even think about that?! Did you think at all?

"Would an evil spirit be trying to convince me that he was an evil spirit?" Sirius replied, amused against his own will.

"It's not funny! Did your terrible mother never read you Aladdin? The genie gets everything in the end."

"I know," Sirius replied, and he did know. For the first time that day, he did feel fear, now that he had something to lose again. "But it was worth it."

"You absolute tosser," James replied, sitting back down, his anger deflating. "Where in Surrey is Harry?"

"A little suburban street called Privet Drive. My parents would have hated it. Come to it—so would have yours. Very muggle. Very boring."

James blinked at Sirius and took a deep breath, looking righteous. It was what he and Remus had deemed James's head boy face.

"As it turns out, I'm not actually feeling great about leaving you right now, the last time I did, you got framed for murder and chucked in Azkaban and made some sort of bargain with a spirit to bring me back from the dead. But I need to see my son."

"Harry is what matters," Sirius agreed.

"Do you remember when went out for New Years and we were supposed to get back to mum and dad's before dawn?"

Sirius nodded, but the picture was hazy, like all of his good memories.

"Dad found me with an old family spell, it lets parents locate their children."

"He sent us a portkey," Sirius recalled. "Blood magic?"

"Right. And a shoe 'fell from the ceiling' in a muggle club. Good thing you're such a fast talker and everyone was stinking drunk or we would have had to pay the ministry for obliviators…" James recalled with a smile, as he opened a draw full of kitchenwear and grabbed a mug at random.

"Well, what are you waiting for, go fetch a quill and some parchment," he ordered, and Sirius ran to his Uncle's room, coming back as quickly as he could. James was still there, and he gestured grandly. Sirius got the hint and picked up the quill.

Sirius started to write, "Dear Harry."

"Tell him that his godfather," James said, emphasizing the word, "has a beautiful cottage by the sea and would like to see him and have an adventure. Oh, and touch the portkey and say "Prongs."

Sirius nodded, and watched as James pricked his finger with his wand, and a few drops of blood fell into the mug.

"Invenient mihi in filiu, et sanguis sanguniem meum portus," James said clearly before the mug was engulfed in a bright yellow light. He took the note, put it on top of the cup and watched as James flicked his wand and it disappeared.

"He'll come," Sirius said.

"I need to see him," James said, ruffling his hand through his messy hair, so like his son's.


	3. Chapter 3

James needed something to do, so worried waiting to see his son. He filled up a glass of water from the tap and drank, not even realizing he was thirsty. It hurt a bit to swallow, his body unused to functioning, so-long dead.

He felt a strange mix of normal and sore, as if he was unfamiliar with his own limbs.

In the beyond, he didn't have much need of a body. But it was peaceful.

He blinked and stared again at Sirius, who was looking back at him with a mixture of guilt, shame and wonder on his face. Sirius had never known peace.

In his mind, James pictured Sirius at 11, so bravely burning the Howlers from his mum at the Gryffindor table. Sirius at 14, shouting in the corridors at Regulus and hexing any Slytherin who called him a blood-traitor or even looked at him wrong. Sirius at 16, bleeding but not broken, showing up on his doorstep asking for shelter. Sirius at 20, so handsome, dressing in dragonhide leathers and enjoying the looks he would get from men and women, letting people get close to his body but never his heart. And this Sirius at 34, bone-thin and touch-starved, making deals with the devil to bring him back from the dead.

He burned so bright always, so loud and so reckless, but all he really wanted was a family who loved him for what he was.

And James was more than happy to give that to Sirius. But did no one else see what he did in him?

"I promised to look after you until I died," James said after a moment, pointing to his palm where they had sliced each other's hands and mixed blood and proclaimed the other their brother when they were 15. "I guess you extended that."

Sirius opened his mouth, probably to say sorry again, and James rolled his eyes. "I am going to hex you if you apologise to me one more time tonight."

Sirius stubbornly set his jaw and threw his hands up, but he could better deal with a petulant Sirius than this one who was so brittle.

James floated the glass to the sink in an easy display of wandless magic, and moved close to Sirius again, his fingers ghosting over his ribs, too-visible. He was too thin, he thought, poking him in the belly.

"Have you not been eating?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but there's not exactly haute cuisine in Azkaban," Sirius grumbled.

"The Blacks don't get their own five-star menu in that place?" James joked, and Sirius barked out a laugh.

"You would think that. But no."

James grinned at him. Black humour. Until a thought struck him.

"How did you escape?"

"As Padfoot last year," Sirius explained. "Doggy paddled in the North Sea."

James nodded, but if this was Sirius a year after Azkaban, what was he like in that place? He couldn't even imagine.

"I'm going to go make sure a bedroom is made up for Harry," James said, not wanting to think of just how alone Sirius was before he was brought back. He walked out of the kitchen and up the wooden stairs, bright Mediterranean sunlight reflecting off his face.

There was two bedrooms, one had a bottle of firewhiskey on the desk and fur on the floor, so it must have been where Sirius was sleeping. The bed was untouched.

James pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before whipping out his wand and transfiguring another bed next to Sirius.

He cleaned the sheets with a spell his mum made him memorise before going to Hogwarts and continued onto the smaller guest bedroom where he did the same thing.

There was an old broom in the corner, a Comet model. Maybe he and Harry could go flying?

James opened the window, letting the sea breeze in the room. He looked out the window, and saw miles of clear blue sea but also, of all things, a Hippogriff lounging beneath a palm tree.

They weren't native to this part of the world. What had Sirius got himself into?

James hadn't had long to contemplate on adventures and hippogriffs before he heard a loud crash downstairs. He crept down the stairs quietly—years of sneaking out of the dorms ensuring he was quiet as a mouse.

Harry was there, his teenage son was in the kitchen only steps away from him. With a trunk at his feet and a snowy owl in a cage and wearing clothes that were much too big for his skinny frame. His son was beaming at Sirius, his eyes so like mother's lighting up the room.

"Thanks for inviting me here," Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. "Wherever here is, exactly?"

"We're in Mallorca," Sirius replied, deliberately not looking at James. "On the ocean, I hope you'll like it here."

"Anywhere is better than the Dursleys," Harry muttered.

"I know how you feel," Sirius replied.

Harry gave him a disbelieving look, and it was like looking in a mirror from when he was in third-year. A skinnier, poorly-dressed mirror.

"Really," Sirius said. "My family was utterly shite too. Your father and his parents took me in when I was 16, saved me from the blood purist hags I'm related to."

"What was that like?" Harry asked.

"Leaving my family to join yours was the best decision I ever made," Sirius told his son. "And ah, speaking of Harry. We have something to tell you."

"We as in the royal?" Harry joked, and James gathered his bravery and stepped forward into the light of the kitchen to meet him.

"Hello, Harry," James said softly.

The blood drained out of Harry's face, and he pulled his wand out of his jeans pocket. "You're dead!"

"I was," James said, taking a step closer to him. "I am so sorry."

Harry looked from Sirius to James with betrayal and rage clouding his features. "Polyjuice? Or a boggart?"

"You can't polyjuice the dead, you need skin or hair from a living person." Sirius told him.

"Riddikulus!" Harry cracked out in reply, but James stayed the same.

"Son," James started reaching out toward him, but Harry grabbed his wand even tighter and stepped further away from him.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, and James in the nick of time, grabbed his wand and conjured a Protego so the cursed bounced off him.

"Sirius, mate, do you want to try and explain?" James said, maintaining his shield.

"I may have made some sort of black bargain with a creature to bring him back," Sirius said, looking between Harry and James.

"You can't bring back the dead!" Harry said.

"Wizards can't, at least not the way they're meant to be," Sirius agreed.

"I was dead this morning," James explained, dropping his spell-shield. "Things were—good. It's hard to explain, but your mum and my mum and most of the other people I love were there and…it was peaceful. But I heard a dark voice asking my soul if I'd like to come back, and I said yes and let myself be pulled out of heaven because I wanted to be your Dad again, Harry. I am so sorry I couldn't always be."

Harry looked at him in shock and disbelief for another moment before he turned on his heels, searching for the door.

He found it, and bolted outside, like a horse at the races.

James spared a glance at Sirius, before following Harry to the sand of the beach, his newly-brought to life limbs struggling to catch up, his lungs feeling like they were on fire.

Harry was staring at the ocean, looking like a stiff breeze could blow him over. He was trembling, and James wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but he was still a stranger to him. James could tell that Harry noticed his presence, but he didn't look in his direction.

"I've never seen the ocean before," Harry said after a few minutes had past, still clutching his wand.

He was looking at the waves creep in toward the shore, his jaw was clenched tight and gods, he had his father's face but his disbelief and anger was all Lily.

"It's beautiful, the sea. Your grandparents took me to Zakynthos in Greece every summer when I was growing up, before they got too ill for international portkeying. We'd go swimming all morning, eat a huge lunch and I'd get dragged to a museum before dinner. The Greek magical community is huge," James told him.

If life went the way it was supposed to, he and Lily would have taken Harry there every summer too, seen his skin go brown and freckle in the sun, and watched him playfully complain as he was forced into some culture with his beach holiday.

"That's nice for you," Harry muttered.

"It was," James agreed easily.

Harry glanced over at him so quickly James almost missed it.

"The sea has its own magic, different to ours, but palpable. Can you feel it?" James asked him.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

James took the chance to take a step closer to him. "I know this is pretty unbelievable."

Harry just snorted.

"It's unbelievable for you—and for me. Like I said, I was dead just this morning. It's tough to take in all around," James said, trying for levity, but Harry just opened his eyes and stared at him like he didn't think he was funny.

"I recognise your voice," Harry admitted.

"Me and your mum used to read to you, even before you were born. All the classics, Babbity Rabbity, Hansel and Gretel and the witches, some Muggle stories your mum liked called Winnie the Pooh," James explained.

"Not from that," Harry said. "When the dementors were around me, I heard you and mum. You were trying to buy her time before he killed you, and she tried to bargaining with Voldemort for my life. She begged, he didn't listen."

"Oh, Harry," James said, his heart breaking for what his son witnessed. "And where did you see dementors?"

"They were after Sirius at Hogwarts after he escaped," he explained.

"Hogwarts is no place for dementors! You shouldn't have been around them at all!" James angrily muttered.

"Nothing you could have done about it," Harry replied in a sad, matter-of-fact tone, and James felt a mix of guilt and shame.

"I know, but I'm still allowed to be upset about shite that happened to my son," James explained.

"It's fine," Harry said, and it wasn't.

James took a step closer to his son and Harry held up a hand to stop him.

"If you are really James Potter—and I don't know if I believe you," Harry said. "How can I even know you won't be gone tomorrow?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry," he said quietly. "But I do know that the day you were born was the happiest day of my life. Your mum and I were so excited to meet the little person we made. We love you more than anything."

"You don't even know me," Harry replied, his voice very small, blinking back tears.

"I did once, and I want to again." James replied. "Will you let me get to know you, Harry James?"

"You can try," Harry offered after a moment, carefully affecting a shrug.

"Thank you," James said, his voice as sincere as he can make it. "Can I give you a hug?"

Harry shrugged again, looking at the shore.

"Kind of going to need a yes or no, kiddo."

Harry nodded slowly, and James closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around his boy. Harry was stiff and unyielding at first—gods, like Sirius—before he clung back to him.

James ran a hand through Harry's messy black locks, and he heard a sob escape.

"It's okay, and I'm sorry about that hair, Harry, I rather think that's my fault" James told him in a low voice, remembering how his Mum spoke to him when he was upset or ill. "Let it out."

Harry cried, a choked-off, low sound like he was at war with his own emotions and it broke James's heart.

James conjured a hanky and handed it to Harry when the sobs subsided.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, face blotchy from tears and embarrassment. "It's just that I wanted this for so long," he all but whispered.

"None of that," James said. "Can we all stop being sorry? Voldemort should be the one that's sorry for taking me and your mum away from you but that's as likely to happen as hell freezing over."

Harry gave him a weak grin before turning back to the sea.

"Do you know how to swim?" James asked him.

"Err, no," Harry replied.

"I can teach you tomorrow if you like," James offered.

"I'd like that," Harry offered, rubbing at his face.

"Come on, let's go back inside and make sure Sirius hasn't burn the cottage down."

He turned to walk back in, making sure Harry was following behind him.

"Is that a serious possibility?" Harry asked, and James laughed at the accidental pun.

"He went through a phase when he was 12 where he was a bit of a pyromaniac, but we're probably safe," James replied.

"There's a boy in my year like that," Harry muttered as he followed James back through the threshold.

James wanted to hear about this boy. He wanted to hear everything.


	4. Chapter 4

Sirius was sitting at the table waiting for them, that same stupid guilty look hanging over his face.

When he saw James though, everything shifted for just a moment, he looked at him like he was holy, something precious and sacred. The weight of that look settled heavily in his gut.

James blinked, and the expression was gone.

"Everything okay then, Potters?" Sirius said, his voice deliberately light.

"Oh, fine, people's dead dads come back to life every day, things are great," Harry joked, his voice as dry as the Sahara.

James looked at Sirius and they both burst out laughing so hard that James clutched his side.

Harry glanced at them like they were mental, but he joined in too. It all was a bit ridiculous.

"You're funny," James told him with a crooked grin. "We'd like you even if you weren't, but that helps."

Sirius nodded sagely. "Never had too much time for stick-in-the-muds, myself."

Harry smiled and stared at his owl, still caged at the table. "Can I let her out?"

"Of course," Sirius replied.

"What's her name?" James asked, as the snowy owl perched itself on the windowsill and blinked at him.

"Hedwig," Harry told him.

"That's a nice name," James said, and the owl hooted at him in reply. "Do you have any other familiars?"

Harry shook his head.

James sat down at the table, a thought crossing his mind. "Sirius, do you know what happened to Daisy?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Who's Daisy?" Harry asked.

"Our beautiful ginger cat, you were fascinated by it. Lily made me us get it, she loves animals," James said, before realising his mistake. "Loved," he corrected softly, breaking his own heart.

"We had a cat?" Harry asked.

"Yep. The cat loved you until Sirius got you a toy broom for your first birthday and you accidentally knocked it over. It wouldn't dare hurt you but it ran out of the room at the sight of you for weeks. Poor Daisy," James said, letting himself grieve for the cat in a way he wouldn't let himself for Lily. If he started to think about her, he might not be able to stop.

"So that's the second broom you got me," Harry said to Sirius with a grin.

"Right, I need to hear this," James said.

"Sirius got me a Firebolt for Christmas," Harry explained.

"And what's that, for those of us missing some years?"

"Just the best broom ever," Harry said, and he actually sounded young for the first time. "The speed and handing are amazing."

"You were a force on the Quidditch pitch even without it," Sirius told him.

James grinned at the pair of them before hearing Harry's stomach grumble.

"Are you hungry?"

Harry shrugged.

"Do you have food here, Sirius, or have you been existing entirely on magic and despair?" James asked, and Sirius flipped him two fingers.

"There's some food," Sirius said, gesturing to the counter behind him.

James got up and ruffled through the groceries. Meat, cheese, bread. It'd do for now.

"Anyone have a problem with ham and cheese sandwiches?" James asked, and Harry and Sirius both shook their heads. James flicked his wand to cut the crusty bread apart to make three sandwiches, and he floated plates over to the table, as well as a whole chunk of manchengo cheese. A voice inside his head that sounded just like his mum said the boys were too thin.

He saw a bottle of firewhiskey on the cabinet, and grabbed three tumblers.

"You're probably old enough for a little bit of this, your grandfather let me drink with him sometimes when I was your age," James explained, pouring just a little into Harry's glass, and being more generous for himself and Sirius.

Harry guilty took a sip, and James laughed when he coughed, little plumes of smokes escaping his mouth.

"It's an acquired taste," James explained, blowing a perfect ring.

"Wanker," Sirius said. "Harry doesn't know you perfected that technique after sneaking firewhiskey in the dorms from Hogsmeade all of fifth and sixth year."

"I…may not be the best example," James joked, but he meant it.

Lily would have been so much better at this. He was just with her, but he was missing her already.

"Alright, Prongs?" Sirius asked, noticing the shadow that crossed his face.

James nodded, and took a bite of the sandwich to avoiding having to speak. It tasted both absolutely fine and like ash. He could still taste death in his mouth, the dirt of the earth and rot. He hoped it would pass soon.

He looked down at his hands, and kept thinking about that stupid cat. How Harry would follow it around and squeal delightedly when it let him pet her. How he promised Lily they could fill their house with animals and kids one day. Both of them were orphans at 20 with little or no family, they wanted to make their own.

"Dad?" Harry asked hesitantly, and startled when he heard what he asked him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," James apologised. "Just thinking about the cat."

"It's okay. I'd be upset if I lost Hedwig," Harry offered, looking up at his beautiful white owl.

"Cats are smart animals, James," Sirius said. "I'm sure she found a home. Bathilda Bagshot had plenty of them, maybe she went there."

"What does the author of History of Magic have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"She lived next door to us, she probably still does, in Godric's Hallow," James explained.

"Err, right," Harry said, but the 'how was I supposed to know that' was written all over his face.

"I had a picture somewhere," Sirius said. "Of me as Padfoot, with you and Daisy on my back. I wonder where it is now."

"It's weird that you get along so well with cats," Harry said. "Crookshanks too. When you're a dog."

"Animals are extremely good judges of character," Sirius joked, and James could see the moment he remembered the deal cross his face.

"Harry, Sirius isn't an animagus anymore," James said.

"How?"

"It was what the creature asked for to bring James back," Sirius explained, looking embarrassed.

"That…doesn't make sense," Harry replied.

"I'm not sure I understand it entirely myself, but this is important. If you see a big shaggy black dog that looks like Padfoot, don't get close to it or follow it. I don't want you getting tricked by the creature," James said, remembering the fairy tales of his youth.

"I'm not an idiot," Harry said.

"No one thinks you are," James said.

"No one here, maybe," Harry muttered before turning again to his father. "Are you still an animagus?"

James put down the sandwich and thought. There was no reason why he shouldn't be.

He stood up, finding the biggest open space in the room. Prongs was king of the forest, he wasn't small.

He took a deep breath and found the place inside himself where the stag lived, and shifted, feet turning to hooves, antlers growing from his head in the space of a moment.

The world felt different, he was himself, but not, and his son and favourite person in this world were staring at him with awe.

Harry got up and ran over, and the stag playfully nudged at his face. James stuck out his tongue, and Harry laughed.

"My patronus really does look just like you," Harry said. James blinked his giant deer-eyes at him.

"Maybe you should show him, Harry," Sirius suggested, his voice thick with emotion, and his son nodded before pulling out his wand.

A great ghostly stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand, it was all blue light that looked just like him, hooves dashing through the sky. It found Prongs and bowed, and he returned the gesture, dipping as low as he could go. The magic seemed to warm his bones, still so cold, it made him feel alive and joyous.

He was gone from his son for so long, but in this magic and in his heart he was still with Harry, and the patronus proved it.

James shifted back, wanting the freedom to speak. "That's an incredible display of magic."

Harry waved off the praise, but James could see how pleased he was by the compliment.

"You weren't much older than me when you started learning that, right?" Harry asked.

James exchanged a look with Sirius. "If that was you asking to be taught very advanced and dangerous magic by the two transfiguration geniuses standing next to you, the answer is yes, but maybe not today. It's been a long day."

Harry nodded. "Mum wasn't an animagus, was she?"

James shook his head. "We had planned to," he explained. "But she got pregnant with you and we stopped the process, pregnant women can't shift their forms as easily, it's not safe."

"Ehm, okay," Harry told him. "Thanks for telling me."

James waved him off. "She wanted to try learning again, we just got past the mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month, but we…" he stopped, steadying himself against the kitchen counter. The magnitude of his loss hit him all at once, like the killing course once did.

Sirius saw his face and refilled a tumbler of whiskey, and handed it to him, which he gladly drank.

"But you died," Harry finished.

"That too," James whispered. He didn't want to share this, didn't want to speak the words, as if he didn't say it, it didn't happen.

"Lily was pregnant again," Sirius figured out, his voice shaking with righteous anger.

James nodded, all they could do in the cottage was take care of Harry and fuck when their baby was asleep, it wasn't on purpose, but the pregnancy spell glowing positive wasn't a surprise.

He was startled when one of the paintings on the wall fell off with a loud crack, accidental magic from his best mate starting to wreck the room.

James ignored that and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying not to cry, enjoying the pain the motion gave him. It meant he was alive, unlike them. His wife and the child he never got to meet.

He gave himself a moment, before swallowing down his pain, and opening his eyes.

When he did, Harry was close to him, offering him comfort this time, and James took it, grabbing him into a tight hug.

He let him go after a moment, hearing a whispered "I'm sorry," in his ear.

"Hey, not your fault," James told him.

"It's mine," he heard Sirius say, and Merlin's beard, James has had enough of this.

"Or mine, for agreeing to the secret keeper switch, or Lily's for insisting we stay in the country, at one point I wanted to leave, I was a coward, or maybe it's Dumbledore's fault for not taking down Voldemort the way we grew up hearing he took down Grindlewald but I don't want to talk about this anymore," James finished.

"Fine by me," Harry said after a moment.

"It's poor after-dinner conversation anyway, your mum would be horrified," Sirius said.

"Yeah, she'd just be feeding us biscuits and trying to get us to tell her all our secrets," James said with a smile, remembering her. "In lieu of biscuits, who wants to go stick their feet in the ocean, hmm? I could use some fresh air."

James took a deep breath before heading outside, knowing that Harry and Sirius would be right behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

James, Harry and Sirius sat on the beach, their feet in the water, taking turns transfiguring the crests of the waves into animal-shapes.

Harry turned one into a particularly realistic looking lion and James and Sirius cheered loudly for him.

"I've done a lot of magic today," Harry said, looking down at the sand.

"You're a wizard," James replied with an easy shrug.

"I'm underage," Harry shot back.

"We're in Spain, the British ministry has no power here, don't worry," James replied.

"And you're in a wizarding home, so there's no way they'd be able to tell anyway," Sirius added.

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Since the day I was born."

James groaned, but Harry still looked concerned.

"The underage magic law is…kind of unfair, I know. But your mum was still near top of the class in everything, even though we got to practice over the summers, and she didn't."

Harry nodded. "One of my best friends is muggle born, and she's the best in our year."

"Blood doesn't matter as much as people think," Sirius said with a yawn.

"Right, time for bed, I think," James said, standing up. He held out his hand, and Harry let him pull him up to his feet. "There's only two bedrooms here, so I've made up the guest room for you, Sirius and I can share."

"I have a room?" Harry asked, with a very strange look on his face.

"No, you're out in the back garden with the inexplicable hippogriff," James said.

Harry exchanged a look with Sirius. "Buckbeak's here!"

James was sure there was a story there, but he was too bone-tired to hear it.

"And the hippogriff has a name," James said with a sigh. "You can tell me all the details later please, I'm going to shower, no one set the house on fire or let in any dark creatures in the meantime."

James sounded just his father warning him and Sirius to behave, and was mildly horrified at himself. He was only 21. Or was, anyway.

He spared one glance at Sirius and his son before heading into the en-suite bathroom, where he peeled himself out of his funeral robes, wondering who had done the spells to dress him and preserve his body. It's a simple charm. Lasts longer depending on power and intent. But nearly any qualified witch or wizard could do it. Who did? Not Lily. Not Sirius. Dumbledore, maybe? Was it a hired service, someone who hadn't even known him, were all his friends dead or imprisoned?

Did Harry last see him in these clothes, at the burial ceremonies? But without life, without all that made him James Potter. His son had memories of their deaths, but probably not their funerals. Small blessings.

James hated the starchy stiff fabric, it made him itch, and taking it off felt like a small burden had been lifted.

Stepping into the shower, James spelled it to go as hot as his body could stand, enjoying the pain and warmth.

Little rivulets of dirt and grime swirled into the drain and it made James shiver.

This body was his, but it was the earth's for almost half as long.

James steadied himself against the white tile of the wall for a moment, swallowing down the sob building inside of him before scrubbing his body clean. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin felt raw and new again. His shampooed his hair twice, it remaining as full of curls and chaos as ever.

After the better part of an hour, he stepped out, slinging a towel low on his waist before entering the bedroom.

Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, absent-mindedly shooting off sparks with his wand.

He perked up when James entered the room, and stared at the wet planes of his chest just a moment too long.

"I hope you have clothes I can borrow, or we are transfiguring napkins into ancient greek togas or starting a nudist colony," James told him. "Because I am not getting into that robe ever, ever again."

"There's some extremely tacky beachwear Alphard left here," Sirius said, his gaze finally snapping up to his eyes.

"Brilliant," James replied, a bit of tacky never hurt anyone. He got in the bed and threw the towel on the ground.

Sirius didn't make any moves to get in bed, he just looked down at his feet. "I don't sleep well as a human."

"You slept as Padfoot," James said. "I already guessed that by the fur on the floor. You can take the boy away from the house elves, but you can't make him tidy after himself."

James smiled when Sirius flipped him the bird.

"Do you think you can try and sleep without the fur and four legs?"

Sirius shrugged before getting under the light summer duvet. "It's too soft. The bed."

"You're a wizard, make it harder," James grumbled at him, before laughing at his unintentional innuendo.

Sirius laughed, but the dirty joke he expected in reply didn't come. He was nervous, James realised, at the prospect of sleeping. Sirius was vain and so smart but lazy, he could sleep all day if he wanted to. This Sirius seemed to look at the bed as an enemy.

"I'll try," Sirius offered gently, before dramatically sighing.

"You're Sirius Black, there is nothing you can't do, mate," James told him. "You think about counting sheep or whatever, I'm going to go check on Harry."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sirius asked, but James shook his head.

He would do this himself, just like when it was his turn to check on his son.

He and Lily would constantly check on Harry, babies were so fragile, they could roll over and suffocate or summon something over with their magic they could choke on. And this baby was a prophecy child, what if a cursed object or Voldemort got near him when they were sleeping?

James shook his head. Harry wasn't a baby. And he made it this far without him.

James summoned some pajama bottoms, delighted to see they had moving pink flamingos on them, thank you Alphard, before putting them on and getting out of bed.

He padded over softly to the next room, and opened the door without knocking.

Harry was awake, knees pulled up to his chest, glasses next to his pillow, looking very small on the bed.

"Not sleeping either, huh?" James said, taking a seat next to Harry.

"I don't think I can."

"Can I get you anything? Not sure we have anything other than water or firewhiskey, Sirius hates milk, but maybe there's some tea in a cabinet somewhere?"

Harry shook his head, and James had a brilliant idea struck him like lightning. He wasn't Head Boy for nothing.

"Right, get up," he said. "Grab a sheet and pillow."

Harry looked at him like he was mental, but he followed him down the hall.

"Oi, Sirius, grab your pillow and duvet and come with me," James said, knowing he would follow him anywhere.

Like ducklings, they walked behind him down to the beach, where James found a particularly good spot, free of rocks and far enough from the tide.

"We'll sleep under the stars," James declared, transfiguring the duvets into sleeping bags. "It'll be fun."

Sirius smiled at him, an honest expression that changed his whole face, making him look more like the man James remembered.

"This is nice," Sirius said, relaxing on the sandy beach, burrowing into his sleeping bag.

"It's like we're camping," Harry added. "Do wizards do that?"

"Wizards do everything muggles do, mostly, just more ostentatiously and with magic," James declared.

"The Blacks don't camp, coming here with my Uncle was about as rustic as I got before Azkaban," Sirius said.

"Much too common," James responded in a more cut-glass version of Sirius' posh London accent.

Sirius smiled in reply. "Nothing but the finest for us, what if a muggle once walked in a campground? We'd have to burn the whole thing down."

"Dudley went camping once with his Scouts, kept going on about how he missed the telly," Harry offered.

"Who's Dudley?" James asked.

"Ehm, my cousin."

"Do you get on?"

Harry snorted.

"It's alright Harry, I've loads of horrible cousins too," Sirius offered.

James saw the look of relief on Harry's face, and hated that Sirius and Harry were connected by this way.

His mum and dad were both so wonderful, he never stopped missing them and the easy way they let him know he was so loved. They would know what to do. James summoned the plucky spirit of his father in his mind, and made a plan.

"Right, Potters and honorary Potter. Bedtime. When the sun comes up, we can get dressed and go into the Muggle old town. I'll transfigure Sirius until he looks like our more handsome cousin, or something. We're going to have fresh orange juice and eat Ensaïmadas—these fluffy muggle pastries—and café con leche. And we're going to go raid some supermarket so we can have a proper dinner instead of sandwiches," James declared

"Sounds good," Harry said with a yawn.

"Sweet dreams, kid."

James closed his eyes.

"Come and follow me if you're not too scared," Sirius whispered in his ear, shaking him awake in his bedroom. James ran past the portraits of his grandparents on the wall, their eyes full of scorn, even his favorite Grandfather Harry. James didn't stop, just picked up his pace.

He was fast, faster than Sirius, but he couldn't catch up.

Sirius was waiting for him on the edge of the Potter's pond, standing on the rickety wooden pier, held together by spellwork and nails.

"Got you!" James said, but Sirius dodged out of his reach.

"What is with you?' James grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I can't follow you any further," Sirius replied, his voice shaking, and when James moved to touch him, he jumped in the pond.

James jumped in after, but he couldn't find him. Sirius was gone. "Padfoot!" he shouted, again and again.

He took a deep breath before swimming as low to the bottom as he could, but Sirius wasn't there. When he got back to the top, gasping for air, Sirius was on the standing on the pier in a prison uniform, his hair matted to his face, his gray eyes cold and hard.

Harry was next to him, alone in his bassinet, crying out the way he did when he was hungry or just wanted to be held.

James swam to the edge, and tried to pull himself up, but he kept slipping back into the lake.

"Sirius! Help me up" he shouted, but Sirius just turned away from him.

"For Merlin's sake, calm down Harry! Hold him!" he shouted, making Harry cry even louder.

Sirius just looked through him, gray eyes flashing with distrust. "He wants you. And you left us."

"I didn't mean to!" James said, struggling to stay afloat, feeling something dark claw at his heels, dragging him down to the bottom. He fought and fought and fought but he was still sinking.

James heard the cry of a seagull, and he opened his eyes. Sirius was snoring softly, and Harry was curled in the fetal position, taking up the smallest amount of space he could in sleep.

Of course it was a dream. But he did leave them. He closed his eyes again, and wished for a more pleasant slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

James knew he was still dreaming, he'd been here before, he was 16.

 _Sirius was lying next to him outside in the land behind his house, they were passing a bottle between them. The night was clear and it was warm enough to sleep under the bright stars with a warming charm and a jumper, and they had nearly polished off a plate of chocolate biscuits his mum had made for the two of them._

 _Sirius was on his side, his back still healing from the way his mother had flayed it open just a week ago._

 _He was so close to him that James noticed the way his long lashes framed his gray eyes, and the sadness in them._

 _Sirius probably thought his face was blank and mysterious, but James knew him better. Better than anyone._

 _He poked Padfoot in the ribs._

 _"_ _Sirius," he whined. "Stop thinking about them. Think about quidditch or what prank we'll do for the opening feast or about how we're probably the youngest animagi of all time!"_

 _Sirius snorted. "You don't know that we are, though."_

 _"_ _Ah, but you don't know that we aren't," James replied. Drunk logic.  
The corner of Sirius's bow-shaped lips turned up in a small smile, and it transformed his face._

 _James knew his best friend was handsome, but he felt arousal pool deep in his gut at the sight of him for the first time._

 _James wanted him, so he leaned in close and kissed him. Sirius opened his mouth, so soft and pliant, more gentle than he expected, letting James set the slow and steady pace._

 _Sirius pulled away too soon and James whined._

 _"_ _You're drunk," Sirius said._

 _"_ _So are you," James pointed out. "And you're thinking of something else now."_

 _"_ _Mostly how hard my dick is," Sirius muttered. "Well-done."_

 _James moved in to kiss him again, but Sirius tilted his face away._

 _"_ _I don't want to be distracted like this," Sirius said._

 _"_ _You're not a distraction," James protested, running his hands through his hair. "You're my best mate."_

 _Sirius chuckled darkly, and rolled onto his belly. "And that's all you want, trust me."_

 _James sighed, Sirius only thought he knew everything and he was hard and cold and Sirius was cross with him and this was bollocks._

 _It was only until he heard Sirius laugh that he realized he said that last bit out loud._

 _"_ _Shut up," James said, but Sirius just laughed harder. James took another swig out of the firewhiskey bottle, and closed his eyes._

James woke up to the light of the Mediterranean sun and the spray of cold, conjured water on his face.

He sputtered and focused his eyes, Sirius and Harry's guilty faces were looking down at him. There was still water coming out of Harry's wand.

"Pranked by my son and my best mate," James grumbled, shaking the water out of his hair. "What a way to wake up."

Sirius laughed and James retaliated, casting a silent Aguamenti in his direction, soaking him in revenge.

Sirius looked like a wet dog, but James refrained from calling him that.

"Now that I'm up," he said, "shall we get ready and go into town?"

"Works for me," Harry said, ducking a gentle blast of water James had sent his way.

"What day is it anyway?" James asked.

Sirius just shrugged.

"16th of July," Harry told them both.

"Nearly your birthday then," James said with a smile. "What do you want?"

"I don't need anything," Harry told him.

"Who said anything about need? What's cool for fourth years now? What do you want?"

"You don't need to make a fuss about it," Harry muttered.

"Don't make a fuss? Are you sure you're my son?" James joked, but regretted it when he saw the way Harry's face fell.

"Harry," he said, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. "That was just a stupid joke. You're just better than me, I was a huge attention-seeker around my birthday."

"It's fine," Harry insisted, his bright green eyes looking down at the sand, making himself look smaller than his thirteen years.

"Your dad was trouble the entire month of March, planning what he wanted for his party, and who would be invited. And your grandparents would send him a giant chocolate cake and treats for our whole dorm, we would love it," Sirius explained, a smile on his face.

Harry looked between the two of them, his brow furrowed. "That sounds like Dudley."

"I was mildly awful, yes," James agreed, remembering how he would owl off a list of what he wanted, and get most of it in return. "But in my defense, I'm an only child and my parents weren't expecting to ever be blessed with a child."

"Miracle baby Jaaammieeee," Sirius said in a very bad impression of his mum.

Harry cracked a smile.

"They were wonderful," James said, thinking his Dad wouldn't have made such a faux pas with his son, he was better than that. "And they would have loved you."

"He's right," Sirius agreed. "They would have tried to spoil you rotten like they did Jamie."

"I wasn't that bad," James protested, but he probably was.

Harry just raised his eyebrows the same way Lily did when she thought he was talking rubbish, but she didn't feel like correcting him about it.

"What's going on in that head of yours, huh?" James asked, opening the door to the cottage.

"Since Hogwarts, I've been hearing stories about you," Harry told him. "How you were Head Boy and Quiddich captain and an animagus and a good friend and a Gryffindor. But meeting you, it's different."

"Not what you expected?" James asked, a sinking feeling in his gut, as he heading to the kitchen to get them glasses of water. The sun was hot, even this early, and he was thirsty.

"That's not it," Harry protested, but James could tell it was, at least a little. "It's just that I never thought we'd be having any conversation, let alone what I wanted for my birthday."

James nodded. "I get it. And can you try to do something for me, please?"

"Anything," Harry told him, god, so eager to please.

"I'm new at being a dad again, but I'm a quick learner. Did anyone tell you that? Because I am. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, and I'll try to not do it again, alright? I want to be good at it," James said, hoping his son would hear the truth to his words.

"Alright," Harry agreed easily, taking a glass of water from James.

Sirius took one as well, looking between the pair of them, a wistful expression on his face. James knew Sirius never heard a kind word from his father either.

"And about your birthday, Harry…I know you'd probably rather spend it with your friends," James said. "But can you spend it here, with us? It's selfish but I was there on the day of course, and for your first, but I missed the other twelve."

"I'd like that," Harry admitted.

James smiled his thanks.

"Right, let's go get dressed and meet down here in a bit, yeah?" James said, walking up the stairs.

Sirius followed behind him to the bedroom.

"You're doing good, Jamie," Sirius said in a soft voice when the door clicked shut behind them.

"I just don't want to mess this up," he said, toweling off his wet hair.

"Don't worry so much, there's no way you can," Sirius insisted.

"Coming from you, that's rich," James muttered, as he pulled on a star-themed polo shirt and matching shorts.

"Avoid regularly cursing him as punishment or calling him a blood-traitor, mudblood loving, shame-of-your-flesh and he'll probably still want to speak to you when he's of age," Sirius snapped back.

James winced. He deserved that, he knew what kind of childhood Sirius had better than anyone living.

The two of them didn't speak before heading down to the kitchen to meet Harry.

Harry looked between them and a smirk grew on his face. "What are the two of you wearing?"

Sirius had thrown on a red t-shirt and shorts that had of all things, otters on them.

James looked down at the constellation decorating his chest and shrugged. "We're Englishmen in Spain, trust me, they've seen weirder things here. Be on the lookout for Stag Dos"

Sirius cracked a smile and James felt forgiven.

"Right, Harry, do you want to try and transfigure Sirius's face before we go out or shall I do it?"

"Go ahead," Harry said. "I'll watch."

James pulled out his wand and lightened Sirius's hair, made his nose slightly crooked and duplicated his glasses, making him like he could be a Potter. He left the gray eyes though, he had always found them interesting, he didn't want to look at Sirius and see anything else.

"How did he do?" Sirius asked Harry.

"You look like us," Harry replied.

Sirius pulled a pretend shocked face, and looked in the mirror. "Yikes," he joked.

"What have you done to yourself?" the mirror said back, scandalised.

"It's a fate worse than…detention with Filch," James said, before he could say death. No one wanted to hear that joke.

"Padfoot, do you have any muggle money around, or are we improvising?" James asked eventually as the silence got more heavy.

Sirius opened a drawer in the kitchen with a flick of his wand, it was overflowing with brightly coloured pesetas.

"Muggle money is hilarious—so bendy and fragile" James said, grabbing up a handful.

"Gemino," he spelled, and the handful of notes doubled.

"And that's why Gringotts doesn't let you exchange very much muggle money at once," Sirius said to Harry's baffled look.

"Is that allowed?" Harry asked.

James shrugged. "Eh, what do you mean by allowed?"

"That's James for no, but we're not going to get in trouble for it and no one's hurt over it, so it's fine," Sirius translated.

Harry laughed. "I think you two would get on with Fred and George Weasley."

"Friends of yours?" James asked.

"Yeah, their brother Ron is my best mate."

Sirius nodded.

"Here," James said, handing a pile of money to Harry. "Get whatever you like."

"I already have all your money," Harry said with a frown. "Don't worry about it."

James sighed, Harry sounded so much like Remus in his stubborn refusal to take his help or money. Gods, Moony.

"Remus isn't dead," James said, with a certainty in his bones. He would have seen him.

"He's alive," Sirius confirmed, as the three of them set off on the short walk toward the Muggle old town.

"He was my Defense against the Dark arts professor last term," Harry added.

James laughed, rule-breaking Prefect Moony as a professor! "Was he good?"

"The best I ever had," Harry said firmly.

"That's great," James said. "I'd like to see him."

Sirius nodded. "We can write to him."

"Is he alright?"

"He's surviving," Sirius said. "That's what he does."

"He said you were one of the best friends he ever had," Harry told him, and James missed him something fiercely for a moment.

"Was he a strict professor?" James asked, imaging if Remus went full McGonagall on Harry and his year mates.

"We all liked him, it's not like he was Snape," Harry replied.

"Want to do me a favour and explain what that creepy little wankstain have to do with anything?" James asked, and Sirius grinned at his creative swearing.

"Ehm, he's our potions professor and he hated the sight of me since first year," Harry said, with a long-suffering expression on his face.

"That may be my fault," James admitted.

"I've heard," Harry muttered darkly.

"We weren't nice to him, but he was a dark-arts obsessed little creep who was obsessed with Lily."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, they grew up together, used to be friends. I do know she was deeply hurt when their friendship ended, we didn't talk about it much." James said.

Harry looked thoughtful.

Sirius was barely paying attention though, his jaw clenched, scanning the crowd. It was a look he had barely ever seen on his face. Sirius looked scared.

"No one is going to find you here," James told him. "And I won't let them take you if they do, do you understand me?"

Sirius exhaled loudly, and nodded.

Harry understood. "You don't look anything like your wanted posters."

"Besides, who would think a Black would be wearing muggle clothes in a non-magical tourist town? You're safe," James added.

Sirius looked at the two of them, and some of the tension bled out of his shoulders.

James noticed a bustling café that was well shaded by umbrellas and palm trees, with outdoor tables spilling out onto the quaint square.

"This fine?" he asked them.

"Works for me," Harry said.

Sirius flagged down a waitress, holding up 3 fingers and pointing to them. "Por tres para desayuno?" he said, managing the Spanish badly.

"Sure," she responded back in English to Sirius, "have a seat. What can I get you and your family?"

James cut Sirius off, no need to explain. "Three cafes con leche, orange juice and two ensaimadas for each of us, we're hungry."

She nodded, and walked back to the kitchen, returning shortly with the orange juice and pastries.

"These look great," Harry said, ripping off a piece of ensaimada, sugar coating his fingers.

"So good," Sirius added through a mouthful of food.

"I love this island," James exclaimed, taking a sip of the freshly squeezed orange juice, the perfect bit of acidity and sweetness.

He felt deliriously happy for a moment, the sun was warming his face and Harry and Sirius were sharing a table with him. Muggles were milling about, none of them sparing a second glance at the oddly dress English trio.

It felt like an interlude between the beyond and the world he came from, full of war and fear and death and betrayal.

James stole another glance at Harry and smiled.

"Good shout on ordering two of these, I had forgotten how nice they are," Sirius said, having polished off half his breakfast already. He had eaten like a starving man.

James waved off the compliment, suppressing an urge to tell him not to talk with his mouth full. He really was turning into his mother.

"Let's get some clothes and groceries after this," James suggested. "And then I told Harry I'd teach him how to swim."

"Sounds perfect," Sirius replied.


	7. Chapter 7

James, Harry and Sirius got back to the cottage hours later, arms loaded down with big bags of clothes and groceries. It was past midday, the sun was directly overhead and they were all sweaty from the fifteen-minute walk back from town.

They had got enough fresh food for the week; meats, cheeses, bread, cakes, fresh fruit and veg and all the snacks and muggle sweet sodas they could want.

And besides the food, James had somehow managed to persuade Harry to actually buy himself clothes that fit him properly. Small victories.

"I think that I might miss Alphard's taste," James joked, as he sent the bags of clothes on their merry way upstairs with a flick of his wand.

"I can't tell if you actually mean that," Harry grumbled, and Sirius laughed, tossing his head back.

Sirius was putting the fresh food away by magic instead of by hand and Harry looked fascinated by their casual, easy use of spellwork.

Maybe it was the growing up with muggles, because directing still objects to a cold pantry wasn't exactly showy. His boy had grown up so differently than he did.

James summoned two fresh oranges, and tossed one over to Harry. He caught it without looking.

"Nice reflexes," James said, as he went to start peeling his snack.

"Seeker," Harry said with an easy shrug.

"I can't wait till you see him fly, Prongs," Sirius said, finishing the last of the unpacking, and opening up a big bag of crisps for himself. He was comfortable, lounging against the counter, and looking almost content.

"I'm excited to see you flatten Slytherin this year," James responded, but god, he had some explaining to do before that. He could plan for his return later.

"It shouldn't be a problem with the team they have now," Harry replied, ruffling his hand through his messy hair.

"Still want to learn how to swim today, Harry?" James asked him.

"If it's not any trouble," Harry replied.

"I have a blisteringly full schedule of napping, eating, and spending time with the people I love the most in the world," James said. "So the answer is no, it's not any trouble at all."

Merlin, those muggles had really done a number on him.

"Okay," Harry said. "Now?"

"As good of time as any," James replied, going upstairs to change into his new swim shorts that were sadly just plain black and devoid of any constellations or creatures, magical or otherwise.

Sirius went outside with them, but elected to lie on the sand, newly purchased straw hat covering up his pale face. James wondered if he still freckled in the sun.

James and Harry waded into the warm water, up to their chests. A tiny little fish grazed his ankle but the water was so clear, he could see it swim away. The muggle-repellant charms had kept the beach so pristine.

"Right, swimming. The first thing to remember is that your magic will make it very hard for you to drown," James said, staring at the way the bright sun reflected golden off his wedding ring.

"I'm not scared," Harry insisted.

"Didn't say you were," James said easily. "But humans are buoyant anyway, our heads will float if we do it properly, and for wizards, the magic inside us wants to live. So you won't drown."

Harry nodded.

"I want you to get used to the water a bit, get your head wet and come back up, I'll be right here," James said.

Harry, his beautiful brave boy, ducked his head under the water, and came back up quickly with a grimace.

"Burns my eyes a little," he complained.

"Keep them shut next time," James said. "So we're going to float first, we can do more swimming tomorrow, I just want you to realise that you're not going under."

"Okay," Harry said.

"Just lie back and I'll hold you alright, you're not going to drown," James repeated, hoping he trusted him at least this much.

Harry leaned backwards into the sea, and James cradled his head with one hand and had the other on the small of Harry's back.

"Spread your arms and legs a little, that's it, you're doing a good job," James said, encouragingly. He was a quick learner too.

Harry looked up at him and smiled at the praise, but it broke his concentration.

"I'm here, don't worry. I see you. Head down, son, if your head is up, your hips and legs will sink," James told him. "Relax."

"I am relaxed," Harry insisted.

"You're doing great," James said. "Will you be okay if I let you go? I'll be right here."

"I'm fine," Harry told him, and James slowly let go. Harry continued to float.

"I had a pond outside my parent's house growing up," James told him. "We had a lot of land, and my Dad taught me how to swim just like this."

"Really?"

"Yep," James said, popping the p. "I was smaller than you, mind, it was before I went to Hogwarts, but Dad would spell the pond so it was as warm as bathwater and we'd spend hours playing outside."

"It sounds perfect," Harry said, a wistful tone to his voice.

"It was wonderful, but not perfect," James said, splashing the water with his hand. "All of my parent's friends were old, you see. None of them had children around my age, so I didn't really have a lot of friends before Hogwarts."

"Did you not make any in school?" Harry asked.

"My mum taught me at home, and I had tutors in other subjects," James said. "They wouldn't have thought to send me somewhere before Hogwarts."

"Was it lonely?"

"Sometimes," James said, lying back to float next to Harry. "But then I went to Hogwarts and met Sirius and Remus and…Peter. And your mum later, and I didn't feel lonely for a long time."

"I didn't have any friends before Hogwarts either," Harry confessed.

"If someone doesn't want to be your friend, they're a real idiot," James told him, the confession tugging at his heart.

"Thanks Dad," Harry said, rolling his eyes at him. James wished he could put that move in a pensive, trap it forever.

His son making of fun of him, looking so happy, the beginnings of a tan on his young face.

It felt like a holiday from real life. Before he died, his world was at war. He had a full life after Hogwarts but the spectre of Voldemort was always above him in some ways.

A little wave came in, and knocked the two of them down, but Harry came up a moment later, finding his balance quickly, standing up in the water that now came up to his collarbone; they had floated out a little further from the shore.

"Was this what your summers in Greece were like?" Harry asked.

"A bit, but with the addition of me stuffing my face with souvlaki," James said. "Oh, do you want to hear a story about how your godfather saved the two of us from a siren?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "They're real?"

"Most things from legends are. I was 15, and so was Sirius, his parents let him go with us to Greece for a week as we made some ridiculous argument about how visiting the pure-blood heritage sites would 'give him context to his noble background'," James said, remembering how he even got his mum in on the plan to break Sirius out of Grimmauld Place, if only for a little while. "And we wandered off from the main magical beach close to dusk one night, we were just exploring, we weren't looking for danger."

"But it found you anyway?"

"Exactly," James agreed. "We found this excellent abandoned diving spot, a small cliff and a deep pool of water. But just as I'm about to dive in, I saw a flash of red hair and heard a laugh that sounded a little like your mum's. So I start walking toward it, ignoring the obvious fact that there was no way Lily was there and I know there's all types of magical creatures that would like to lure young men into the sea."

Harry pulled a face, and James carried on.

"Right. So I get to the other side of the cliff and see the back of a woman, all long red hair and pale skin, and something in me felt a pull to try and get closer to her. I get ready to dive in so I can say hello and Sirius tackled me down to the rocky ground, not letting me go anywhere. And it's a good thing too, the water wasn't as deep on that end and I could have busted my head open. The siren just turned around at the commotion to wink at us both, and Sirius tried to curse her, but it just swam away into the water, unbothered by the whole thing."

"I'm glad you didn't jump," Harry said, his hands making small circles in the water.

James was glad too. He remembered the fear and anger on Sirius's face. What am I supposed to do you without you, Sirius had asked, shoving him back down on the ground after James tried to get back up to his feet.

 _Be top of the class?_ James had joked, but Sirius wasn't in the mood to hear it.

"Sirius I were always getting each other in and out of trouble," James said finally.


End file.
